Starcrossed
by WriteChristineR
Summary: Frustrated with Beckett, Castle takes off to attend a book signing in Boston. But an unexpected detour leads him to Stars Hollow, a strange but quaint little town where even the most unlucky seem to find their soul mates.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything. Not from Castle OR from Gilmore Girls. No characters, no places... nothing, really. Except a bunch of DVDs, some books, a few t-shirts and various other paraphernalia... enough that if I figured out how much money I've spent on all these things over the years it could probably finance a year of college. I... really hope I'm exaggerating. Not sure. Let's just say I don't own anything that I'm not supposed to.

**Author's Note: **I think I've been in some stage of planning this story for almost four years now. Ever since I started considering writing fics for Castle. Which happened at least a year before I actually started writing them. Needless to say, I'm excited about it. Really excited. Gilmore Girls was my first fandom, but it's been a long time since I've written fanfiction for it, and... well, I just wanted to try this. I've never done a crossover before, but the whole idea of mixing together my two favorite shows of all time... WHAT COULD THE PROBLEM BE? I feel totally confident in saying that everything about this story is about as "me" as it gets. So... here it is. Hope it works. :)

**Background Information: **In the Castle-verse, we're somewhere around 4.19-4.20. After Castle has found out that Beckett remembers everything that happened when she was shot. In Stars Hollow, time has kept going. It's March 2012, roughly 5 years after the show ended. Rory got a job as a full-time staff writer at the Providence Journal Bulletin, and everything else you need to know will come out in the story.

* * *

"_We're almost there and nowhere near it. All that matters is we're going."_

The short white lines disappeared and reappeared in an endless parade of dashes as he drove. He passed a gray minivan, and for a little while the road before him was empty of cars. The feeling of solitude, that it was just him, the car, and the road, was at once disconcerting and comforting. He wasn't used to being completely alone. He always seemed to be surrounded with people, whether they were colleagues, family, or total strangers. It was the way he'd always lived his life. At the end of his journey this would again be the case, but between here and Boston he would be alone. And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It would give him time to think. Breathe. Refocus.

The deadline for his next Nikki Heat novel was coming up fast, and he was making no progress. Ironically, proximity to his muse seemed to be making things worse. He wasn't exactly thrilled with her, and his anger seemed to be interfering with his ability to write the character. What he needed, he thought, was a change of scenery. He needed to get away from the distractions of New York. Away from his mother and her always-interruptive acting classes. Away from his daughter, as much as he loved her, and her internships and increasingly stressful college search. And away, above all, from the NYPD.

He was in the habit of turning down most of the random book signings that his publicist tried to set up for him, but when she'd mentioned one in Boston this weekend, he'd actually thought it sounded like a good idea. It seemed like the perfect time and the perfect destination. Boston was only about a four-hour drive, so if Alexis needed him for anything he could go home again without taking forever or worrying about flights, and a road trip seemed like just the thing he needed to clear his head. He listened to nothing but the low hum of his Ferrari's engine and looked at nothing but trees and cars and pavement. The monotonous task of driving wiped his mind clear of everything else. By the time he got to Boston he expected to be a blank canvas, ready to dissolve into the world of his book, leaving his own world back in New York. He'd do the book signing, but then he'd have the rest of the weekend to relax, and, hopefully, to write.

Close to the halfway point of his journey he started to get hungry. When he saw an exit with a gas station he took it, thinking that he'd refuel and grab a snack.

He started toward the coffee machines in the mini mart, but he hadn't yet started filling his cup when a woman's voice stopped him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He frowned and turned toward the voice. She was a young woman, probably somewhere in her mid- to-late-twenties, wearing professional attire, which seemed oddly formal for a mini mart in a fairly rural part of Connecticut. "What," he asked, "drink coffee? I still have a long drive ahead of me, I could use the caffeine."

"No," she laughed, "trust me, I'm an advocate for coffee. But this particular coffee has probably been sitting in the pot since around six this morning."

He immediately put the cup back. "Thanks for the heads-up."

The girl frowned. "I'm sorry if this is rude, but… are you Richard Castle?"

He smiled, always pleased to meet a fan. "As a matter of fact, I am."

"Wow. It's so great to meet you. My name's Rory Gilmore, I love your books."

"Rory Gilmore. Where have I heard that name?"

"I'm a journalist," she said. "I actually work for the Providence Journal Bulletin, but I've had a couple of articles picked up by the New York Times. Maybe you've seen them?"

He considered this. It was possible that he'd read her articles, but he didn't usually remember the names of random reporters. Unless… "You've reviewed my books, haven't you?"

She blushed. "I write a reviews column for the Providence paper, but it's not my main thing… it's more of a hobby. I'm surprised you've seen it."

Suddenly he remembered why he remembered her. "For someone who claims to be a fan, your review of _Heat Wave_ wasn't exactly positive."

"I praised your characterization of Nikki Heat," she reminded him.

"But you called Jameson Rook 'a two-dimensional stock character whose only clear ambition is to get in the detective's pants'."

"Good memory," she mumbled.

"Yeah, well, that review didn't exactly make my life easier. My mother quoted it to me six times a day for at least a week, and then my partner found it and things _really_ got fun." He stopped himself before he got any further in his story, because he didn't want to think about Beckett right now. The purpose of this weekend was to remove himself from her, not to dwell on the past. "You are aware that I based the character of Rook on myself?"

She looked around awkwardly. "It was very nice to meet you, Mr. Castle." She left the mini mart quickly, leaving him shaking his head.

When his mother had shoved the column in his face shortly after _Heat Wave _was released, he'd imagined Rory Gilmore as some bitter fifty-year-old divorcee. Certainly not the polite young girl he'd just met. She reminded him a little of what he imagined his own daughter could be in a few years.

Giving up on the idea of coffee, he grabbed a Coke and a bag of chips and checked out. He filled his gas tank, but then when he was ready to leave, he found that his car wasn't. It refused to start, and the more times he turned the key, the angrier it seemed to become.

Finally he gave up and leaned into the steering wheel, well beyond frustrated. He was in the middle or pretty much nowhere, miles away from anyone he knew. What was he supposed to do?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a light knocking on the window. When he looked up, he saw the same young girl from inside the store. He rolled down the window to see what she wanted.

"Car trouble?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "How did you guess?"

"Well, the sounds your engine was making didn't sound like any working car I'd ever heard. Need a ride?"

He frowned. A ride _where?_ "I can't just leave my car here," he said.

She shrugged. "No one will bother it. Look, we're just a couple miles away from my town. You can call a tow truck and have them take it to Hughes Brothers in Stars Hollow. Gypsy will have it working again in no time."

"I thought you were from Providence?"

"Oh, no. I mean, I live there now, but only because it's where I work. I'm _from_ Stars Hollow. Actually I was born in Hartford, but Stars Hollow is where I grew up. My mom still lives there, so I'm visiting for the weekend."

"I can't honestly say I've ever heard of Stars Hollow."

"I'm not surprised. It's a small town. But Gypsy knows what she's doing. I promise she'll take good care of your car. You'll be on the road again before you know it. In the meantime, I'll show you this place that has pretty good food and the best coffee you've ever tasted."

He eyed her skeptically. He wasn't in the habit of trusting reporters, especially ones who had portrayed his books less than favorably. "Why don't I just call a tow truck and have it take me to a repair shop in Hartford?"

She shrugged. "Hartford's at least a half hour's drive from here. Do you really want to ride all that way in a smelly tow truck?"

She did have a point. "I'd appreciate the ride if you don't mind waiting," he sighed. "I want to be here when they're putting her on the tow truck."

She raised an eyebrow. "The car's a girl?"

"Of course."

"Ah." She nodded as if she understood. "Okay, then."

* * *

"Are you sure that tow truck driver knew what he was doing?" he asked nervously as Rory drove him toward, he guessed, Stars Hollow.

"Oh no, I'm a hundred percent positive he didn't."

His eyes widened and he felt the color start to drain from his face. "You told me they'd take good care of her!"

"No, I said _Gypsy_ would take good care of _it._ I didn't say anything about the towing process."

He knew there was nothing that he could do now, but he pouted. "Who is that guy, anyway?"

"His name's Kirk. He works for every business in town that'll let him, and a few that can't figure out how to make him leave. Including the only towing company around here. Even if you would've wanted to go to Hartford, he still would've been the driver. You can't avoid him. But trust me, the short distance is safer."

He nodded. He could see the wisdom in that. But if he'd had any doubt that he wasn't a small town kind of guy, it was now erased.

"Mr. Castle?" Rory asked after an uncomfortable minute of silence.

"Yep?"

"I'm sorry about that review. But it was a couple years ago now, and I know this isn't a good excuse, but I _really_ didn't think I'd ever meet you."

He smiled. He was finding it more and more difficult to dislike this girl. "I'll tell you what," he said, "if the coffee at this place is as good as you say, we'll call it even."

"I promise you won't be disappointed."

The rural landscape began to transform, houses popping up more and more frequently until they came to a traffic light at the edge of what looked like a very small, very quaint little town. Rory took the car around a square lined with shops, past a pretty white gazebo and a sign that read "Stars Hollow, Founded 1779." It looked like a postcard, or maybe a scene from some cheesy, idealized family movie. It didn't look like the kind of place that should really exist.

"You really grew up here?" he found himself asking.

Rory laughed. "I know, it seems a little surreal at first. And in some ways it is, I guess." She shrugged. "But it's my town, and I love it."

She pulled up in front of an old but well-kept building with a sign out front that read "William's Hardware."

"We can grab a quick cup of coffee and then I'll take you to Gypsy's. Sound okay?"

He frowned and tried to take in his surroundings. "Coffee?" he asked. "Where?"

She looked confused. "Here."

He eyed the sign, wondering if he'd misread it. But he hadn't. "This is a hardware store."

"Oh." She smiled. "No it's not. Come on, you'll see."

She got out of her car, and, not seeing an alternative, he followed. "The sign says 'Hardware,'" he pointed out.

She nodded. "I know. It's an old sign." She pointed to another one, smaller but bright yellow, in the shape of a coffee cup with writing on it that said "Luke's." "This is the right one." She led him into what seemed to be a small restaurant. "It used to be a hardware store a long time ago, way before I was born. But after Luke's dad died, he turned it into a diner."

Castle turned the character in his mind. A man so grieved by the loss, or, even better, the murder, of his father that he left the "Hardware" sign on the front of his diner as a memorial for years, with no thought to how it might confuse away potential customers. He'd never aspired to anything more than flipping burgers and serving coffee, never so much considered taking up a life of fighting crime, until someone stole his prized French toast recipe. The small town's police force was over-worked and under-staffed, so he began his own type of justice system: observing the habits of his patrons, becoming so familiar with each and every one of his regular customers that he could sense trouble a mile away and put a stop to it before it came to pass.

Or maybe not. Maybe that was a tad ridiculous. But whether it was or it wasn't, there was something about this town that seemed to get his creative juices flowing. He was contractually obligated to finish the Nikki Heat novel that he was working on, but after that his contract would be up. The books were popular enough that he hadn't been worried about whether he'd be offered a deal to write more of them, but now for the first time it crossed his mind that he didn't have to accept. Maybe it was time that he took a break from Nikki, at least for awhile. It would give him reason to keep his distance from the Twelfth, and from Beckett. Beyond the reason that already existed, but that he wasn't admitting. That she knew how he felt about her, but clearly didn't return the feeling. That this knowledge made being around her harder than he liked. Harder than he was willing to deal with.

Maybe he'd stop here again on the way home from Boston. If Alexis didn't need him for anything, he could even stay for a few days. See if he couldn't get an idea for a new character. Maybe his next book would be set in a small Connecticut town. There was a lot he could do with that.

"Mr. Castle?" Rory's voice jarred him out of his trance.

He looked up and saw an impatient-looking man in a flannel shirt and a blue baseball cap, which he wore backwards, frowning at him, and wondered how long he'd been there. "Oh. Hi," he sputtered.

The man gave a disinterested nod of acknowledgement.

"Do you want anything to eat, or just the coffee?" Rory asked.

"Uh… I haven't even looked at the menu yet."

At this, the man let out a low growl.

"You like burgers?" Rory asked quickly.

Castle nodded. "That sounds great."

"Two burgers with fries and two coffees," she ordered. The man nodded and walked away.

"Who was that?" he asked in a voice near a whisper, still feeling a little uncomfortable even now that the man had gone.

Rory frowned. "Luke. My stepfather? It's his diner. I introduced you, but you were…"

He sighed. "Distracted. Sorry. No wonder he was looking at me like that."

She shrugged. "That's just Luke. Although I doubt that ignoring him earned you any points. But what do you care, right? You'll be out of here soon."

He nodded. "Right. As soon as I get my car fixed." He didn't mention his idea about stopping back on his way home. The town was certainly intriguing, but if he was going to observe it from an objective point of view, he'd need to do it a bit more… quietly.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm a self-admitted review addict. But I have no interest in seeking help. I'd rather just indulge the addiction. See the button down at the bottom of the page? Click it! Let me know what you thought! Pretty please?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I know it's been a little while (and if you're following any of my other stories I know it's been longer... sorry!), but I managed to finish another chapter. I don't have a lot of notes about it, really. But I hope you like it!

Oh, I DID have something that I meant to say in the ANs for chapter 1 but forgot. See the pretty cover art? I didn't make it. I'm not that talented. All the credit goes to my awesome friend Louise. Who's probably reading this right now. *waves*

* * *

"_You wanna know why I killed Derrick? There were no more surprises. I knew exactly what was gonna happen every moment of every scene. It's just like these parties, they've become so predictable. 'I'm your biggest fan.' 'Where do you get your ideas?'"_

Lorelai was just about to go back to the kitchen to clear up a menu discrepancy with Sookie when her cell phone rang. Seeing that it was her daughter, she stopped what she was doing and answered immediately. "Hey sweets, you back in town?"

"Yes, and you'll never believe who I just left."

"Elvis? The Dalai Lama? Christiane Amanpour?" A thought occurred to her, and she dropped the quips. "It wasn't my mother, was it? She gets to see you at dinner tonight, she doesn't need a preview."

"No, it wasn't Grandma. Or the Dalai Lama or Christiane Amanpour."

"So it _was_ Elvis. I knew it!"

"Not Elvis, either." Whoever this was really must have excited her, because she didn't even seem frustrated by her mother's antics. "Richard Castle is here."

She frowned. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it. "Who?"

"Richard Castle! The novelist?"

"Oh, that mystery guy? You reviewed one of his books?"

"That's the one."

"What's he doing here?" She grinned. "Did he hear it's where Norman Mailer used to hang out?"

This time she could practically hear her daughter's eyeroll. "No. His car, his _Ferrari, _by the way, broke down on the way to Boston and I met him at the gas station. Can you imagine? What are the chances? So I gave him a ride here and his car's at Gypsy's. I thought she'd be able to get him out of here pretty quickly, but Kirk messed something up getting the car here and she can't figure out what, so he's gonna have to stay the night. And I know you're really busy right now with the crowd for the Firelight Festival, but if you had a room for him I'm sure he'd really appreciate it."

By this time she'd already started making her way back toward the desk. "I'll see what I can do, hon," she said to her daughter before holding the phone away from her mouth a little and speaking to her concierge. "Michel, have we had any cancellations for tonight?"

"Five," he said in his French accent, still thick as ever despite how many years he'd been in Connecticut.

Lorelai frowned. "Five? How is that possible? We only have ten rooms, and we've been booked this weekend for weeks."

"I called the waiting list," he said, sounding bored, "but only two of the cancelled rooms have been filled."

"The Firelight Festival is still this weekend, isn't it?"

"Judging from the absurd quantity of stars in the square this morning, yes, your insipid festival is still on."

"That's weird," she said, frowning. But she focused her attention back toward her daughter. "Sounds like we have rooms, Rory. Send him our way."

"Great, because I kind of already did. I'm still feeling bad about that article… kind of trying to make it up to him."

She frowned. "He read it?"

"Oh yeah. He read it, his mother read it, his partner read it… apparently it was rather popular in his inner circles. Which is never what I intend when I write something, you know that."

"I do know that. But honey, it's not your job to make everyone happy, it's your job to write your opinion."

"Yeah, but my opinions can be a little harsh. You know that as well as anyone, I got it from you."

"But that's what makes your reviews good. They're honest and sharp and ruthless. You're like a young Dorothy Parker."

"Nice reputation." Her daughter's voice dripped sarcasm.

"I thought you liked her."

"Doesn't mean I want to _be_ her."

"What did you write, anyway?"

Rory sighed. "It was a long time ago."

"You must remember something if you're still so upset about it," she coaxed.

"I said his male lead, Jameson Rook, was a two-dimensional stock character whose only clear ambition was to get in the detective's pants."

She laughed. "So much for not remembering."

"He reminded me. Yesterday."

"Well, so what? It's one character, not even the whole book."

"The character was based on him."

"Yikes. Maybe I can get Sookie to give him a free meal."

"You don't have to do that. The room is plenty. He should be there soon. Thanks, Mom."

"You gonna show your face around here, or do I just have to take your word that you're here? I mean, you are a journalist, how reliable can you be?"

"I'm going to see Lane and the boys now. But Richard Castle will be there in a minute, and I just spent the last hour with him. He'll confirm that I'm here."

"He's a novelist, that's worse!"

"I'm hanging up now."

"Okay, fine. Tell Lane I said hi."

"Will do. See you tonight."

"Bye, sweets." She hung up and made a note for Michel to put Castle in room five before heading back to the kitchen.

Sookie greeted her at the kitchen door with a "good" and a spoon thrust toward her face. "Tell me what you think of this syrup," she more demanded than requested. "I mean, I know it's good, but is it good enough for the Firelight Festival brunch? I mean, you know how important this brunch is to Taylor, everything has to be perfect."

Lorelai took the spoon full of hot liquid away from her friend for her own safety, but tasted it to appease her. "The sauce is delicious, Sookie," she assured her. "Can you stop cooking for a minute? I have news."

"Ooh, Rory's here?" In a fit of pure excitement, she handed the spoon to her sous chef and abandoned her stove entirely.

"Rory _is_ here, but that's not my news."

Sookie looked a little disappointed, as if she couldn't possibly imagine anything that could be more exciting than the return of her best friend's daughter. "Oh. Okay, come on, what is it then?"

"Guess who's staying here, at this, our very own Dragonfly Inn, tonight?"

"A whole ledger full of Firelight Festival guests?"

"Apparently not. A whole bunch of people cancelled at the last minute."

Sookie frowned. "What? On Firelight weekend? That never happens."

Lorelai shrugged. "I don't know what's going on, I'll have to look into it. Maybe Taylor did something weird. But that wasn't my news either. We may not have many guests this weekend, but we do have a celebrity."

Sookie's eyes immediately lit up. "Ooh, who, who?"

"Richard Castle."

She gasped. "That British guy who owns the record company?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "No, Sookie, that's Richard Branson."

"Oh." Sookie frowned. "Then who's Richard Castle?"

"Richard Castle the novelist. He wrote _Heat Wave_."

"Oh, Nikki Heat? Cool, I love those books! He's staying here?"

"Yeah, his car broke down and Rory ran into him at a gas station."

"Good car! Ooh, what's his favorite fish?"

Used to her friend's seemingly off-the-wall culinary questions, Lorelai barely reacted. "I have no idea, Sookie."

"I was gonna make fish tonight. Does he seem like more of a tuna or a salmon person?"

"I haven't even met him yet. But how about I tell you when he comes in and you can judge for yourself?"

The chef's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really. We'll give him the whole grand tour. It's been awhile since we've had a celebrity in here, might as well take advantage."

"Maybe Rory will start bringing them in for us now that she's a big-shot news reporter."

Lorelai laughed. "Maybe she will. I need to go back out to the desk, but I'll let you know when he gets here."

"Ooh, this is so exciting!" Sookie practically squealed.

Lorelai smiled and gave her friend a quick nod of agreement before heading back out to the lobby, poising herself to act like Richard Castle was no different from any other guest. She might not have had the best reputation with celebrities who stayed at her inn, but this time she was determined not to embarrass herself.

* * *

If she hadn't been expecting him, Lorelai might have thought that Richard Castle _was_ just another guest. He was dressed casually but professionally, in khakis and a pinstriped button-down shirt, and she couldn't help noticing that he was very handsome. She'd read a few of his books, but she wasn't such a fan that she'd have recognized him from his face alone. He seemed a little road weary, but smiled as he walked up to the desk. "Hi, I'm Richard Castle," he introduced himself, "I was told you might have a room for me?"

Lorelai smiled brightly. "As a matter of fact, we do." She didn't mention the cancellations, not wanting to raise any red flags for him. "How long will you be staying with us?"

"Just one night, I hope. My car broke down outside of town, and I just need a place to stay until it's fixed."

"Well, that's no problem. Welcome to the Dragonfly. My name's Lorelai Gilmore, my partner Sookie and I own this place. This is Michel Gerard, our manager." She indicated the man beside her, who barely inclined his head in greeting. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at the concierge's ever-friendly demeanor and won, although if asked she would've had to admit that it was a close call. "Would you care for a tour?"

"You know what, I appreciate the offer, but it's been a long day. I think I'll just go to my room if that's okay."

"That's no problem." She slid a key across the surface of the desk. "You're in room five. We serve dinner between five and nine if you're interested, the dining room is straight through there. And if you change your mind and want to stay another night, our Founder's Firelight Festival is this weekend. It's a true Stars Hollow experience, and we'd be glad to accommodate you." Since apparently they had the space, she didn't think it would hurt to take the hospitality scale up a notch.

He frowned. "Is that what they were setting up for in the square?"  
"Giant papier-mâché stars?"

He nodded.

"That's the Firelight Festival. It's a celebration of the founding of Stars Hollow. Stick around if you want the full story, I'm sure you won't be disappointed."

"Actually I have a commitment in Boston, but you've caught my interest. This town… it's different from New York. And I've been looking for some new inspiration."

"We're always glad to inspire. If you decide to stay, just let us know at the desk. Someone's always there." Internally, Lorelai congratulated herself on the smooth and professional exchange she'd just managed to get through. But it hadn't been difficult. There was nothing about this man's manner or appearance that suggested fame. She got the impression that he could turn it on and off, but if this was the case, it was certainly off now.

His eyes seemed to rest on the key she'd tried to pass him, but he didn't take it. In fact, he didn't say or do anything. Out of the corner of her eye she caught her concierge raising his eyebrows, and she made the decision to get the writer's attention before Michel did the same in a less pleasant way.

"Mr. Castle?"

"Right," he said, snapping back into the moment. He picked up the key. "Which way…?"

"All of our guest rooms are upstairs," she said. "I'd be happy to take you there if you'd like. Do you have bags?"

"In my car," he realized with a sigh.

She'd been doing this job for so long that she immediately kicked into problem solving mode without so much as a gear shift. "And your car's at Gypsy's?" she surmised. "That's no problem, we can have someone take you there to get your things."

He nodded. "Thank you. I'm not sure I'm up for another walk."

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, maybe? Sookie made some biscotti this morning, and I ate three pieces myself, so I can promise you that it's good."

"I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee," he admitted. "Although I should've had my fill at that diner."

"Oh, did Rory take you to Luke's?"

"That's the place. And the coffee was good, but it just doesn't seem to be doing the job."

"The real personable guy in the backwards baseball cap is my husband," she quipped. "And his is the best coffee in town, but I'd be lying if I told you I didn't have a second or third cup here more often than not. Just don't tell him that." She smiled, and for the first time she saw the writer's lips curve upwards as well. "Our coffee isn't bad either, I'll get you some. Or better yet, why don't you come with me? My partner's the head chef here, and she's dying to meet you."

"Can I rain check on that?" he asked. "I'm sure I'd love to meet her, but I'm not really in the frame of mind to meet fans."

Lorelai nodded. "No problem. But, um, I'm sorry, this won't make any sense unless you've met her, but she wants to know if you prefer tuna or salmon."

He chuckled. "What?"

"Trust me. Just pick one."

"Um, salmon, I guess."

"Perfect." She left him at the desk and went to the kitchen in search of coffee.

* * *

**A/N:** Reviews, please? :)


	3. Chapter 3

_"Do you sometimes think this town is weird, or is it just me?"_

The town might've been small, but it wasn't slow-paced. Part of him felt that he needed to have a cup of coffee in his hand at all times just to keep up with the quirky and quick-witted residents who surrounded him. He'd taken an immediate liking to the inn owner who'd greeted him. Were he in a more usual state of mind, he thought they might get along well.

He knew he needed something to pull him out of the funk that he was stuck in, but he couldn't point to what that might be. He wasn't even exactly sure what was causing it. As soon as that thought crossed his mind the image of his partner flashed through his mind. Okay, maybe he did know what was causing it, but he was trying not to think about that. He was trying to move on and leave that facet of his life behind him, at least for a little while. For the first time he began to wonder if a book signing, with thousands of fans bombarding him with questions about the book he was working on and, inevitably, Nikki Heat and her inspiration, was really what he needed right now.

The ride to the mechanic's shop was the most peaceful place he'd managed to find in Stars Hollow so far. The Dragonfly employee driving the little golf cart he rode in was young, probably in his early twenties, and seemed friendly, but not talkative. Castle was grateful for the reprieve.

The festival preparations seemed to be going full force. It was still daylight, but white twinkle lights covered most of the town, and he could only imagine how magical the effect would be when they were lit. He almost wished he'd be around to see it.

The allure of Stars Hollow for him, he was beginning to think, had a lot to do with the fact that it was so unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. New York would always be his home, but this town was so _not_ New York. And right now, different was appealing.

He found his car sitting more or less unattended in the parking lot of the garage when he reached it. The mechanic he'd met earlier was nowhere in sight, but an older woman with a large frame and auburn hair was a few feet away and seemed to be examining it closely.

"Well, well, well, the rumors are true," she said as he approached the vehicle. "Richard Castle, here in Stars Hollow."

Castle frowned. "Have we met?"

The woman had moved from admiring the car to admiring him, and frankly it was unsettling. "Unfortunately no, but there's a first time for everything." She extended her hand. "Patricia LaCosta. Most call me Patty, but you can call me anything you want."

"That's a little wordy, so I think I'll stick with Patty," he said, shaking her hand lightly.

She laughed. "And there's that famous sense of humor. Who says the media doesn't tell the truth?"

He blanched a little at that. "Let's just say they have their moments."

"Well then tell me, is what they say about you and that detective true, or are you still on the market?"

He swallowed. He'd known this would come up sooner or later, but he'd been hoping to avoid it. "No, I'd say I'm fair game."

Some sort of recognition crossed the woman's face, and she dropped the flirtatious act. When she asked him where he was staying, her tone made him a lot more comfortable than he had been previously.

"The Dragonfly," he responded with a half-smile that he didn't have to force. "Nice place."

"I'm surprised they had any rooms open this close to the Festival," she remarked. "Lorelai must have pulled some strings for you."

"Lorelai," he repeated. This wasn't the first time he was hearing the inn owner's name, but each time he heard it, it seemed to intrigue him further. "That would make a good name for a character. Unusual, but classy."

"Well, she did come from money," the woman disclosed.

"I don't doubt it, with a beautiful inn like that."

"Oh, it is beautiful, but unrelated. She left her parents when she was seventeen, made it on her own with a one-year-old daughter. And now both the inn and her daughter are wonderfully successful. And beautiful. Have you met Rory? She's something special. They both are."

"Sounds that way. Rory actually gave me a ride into town." But he found himself more interested in her mother, the inn owner. This woman seemed very in-the-know, and wasn't hesitant to gossip. As a writer, he'd learned that gossip could be a powerful form of research. "So her husband, the man from the diner, he's Rory's stepfather? What about her father? Is he in the picture?"

"When he cares to be. He wasn't until Rory was in high school. And after that it was intermittent. He and Lorelai were married for a time. Not a long time. But since she's been with Luke, he's been keeping his distance. And we're all thankful for that. He was never really right for her."

The gears in Castle's head were beginning to turn. "That's quite a story," he remarked, feeling a kind of excitement that was vaguely familiar, but he hadn't felt in years, building inside of him. "So she was only a teenager when Rory was born?"

"Sixteen," Patty confirmed.

"Sixteen," he echoed. Alexis was eighteen. He had to stop his imagination from picturing her with a two-year-old. That picture was so _not_ his daughter. But still, her age allowed him some perspective, some yardstick with which to measure just how difficult that situation must have been. "And she came here and opened an inn?"

"No, no. She came here and started working at another inn, the Independence, as a maid. Over the years she worked her way up to manager, and then when it burned down she opened the Dragonfly with a partner."

This time he couldn't stop his imagination from kicking into overdrive, picturing scenarios in which dangerous enemies had set the old inn on fire to destroy evidence of dastardly plots, CIA conspiracies, maybe even otherworldly life forms… no one had expected that the overburdened young mother would be the one to foil their plans, but her quick wits and persevering nature proved no match for any opponent.

On the ride back to the inn, he called his publicist to tell her that he wouldn't make the book signing after all. She wasn't happy, but he didn't care. Circumstances had changed. He'd found a new muse.

* * *

Lorelai was still at the desk when he got back to the Dragonfly, but she was on the phone. Since this had become his destination and he wasn't in a hurry to get anywhere else, he took a seat in the lobby while he waited for her to finish.

It wasn't long before she hung up, but when she did, she didn't look happy. "Another cancellation," she grumbled to her concierge. "I'd like to know what the hell is going on around here."

"Maybe people have finally tired of the firelight insanity," he replied, his face frozen in a permanently bored expression.

"Well, they weren't tired of it a week ago. We _were_ completely booked. It's not like one weekend is gonna kill us, but this is nuts. You didn't do anything, did you?"

"You mean did I systematically call each of our guests to suggest that they cancel their reservations? Why yes, I thought bankruptcy might be a fun change of pace."

"Never mind." She looked up from her desk mid-eye-roll and noticed him sitting there for the first time. "Oh, Mr. Castle, you're back," she greeted him. "Did you get your things okay?"

He got up from his chair and started toward the desk so they wouldn't have to yell their conversation across the lobby. "Yeah, no problem at all. Brian said he'd take the bags up to my room for me. Great service here."

"Aww, well we do our best. Was there anything I could help you with?"

He nodded. "Look, I know I told you I'd only need to be here for one night, but I was wondering if there was any way I could make it longer? My commitment in Boston fell through, but I do need to get some writing done, and this town… I'm finding it rather inspiring."

"No problem at all." She glanced at her computer screen. "We've actually been having some cancellations lately, so it looks like your room is wide open for as long as you want it."

"Three nights should do," he said. "I'll need to get back to my daughter sooner or later."

She smiled. "I didn't know you had a daughter. How old is she?"

"Eighteen. She'll be starting college next year. Pretty scary."

Lorelai nodded. "I remember those days. Does she know where she's going yet?"

"Not for sure. She really likes Stanford, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed against that one. It's a little far. But of course I'll support whatever decision she makes."

"Wow. Rory's top three choices were all pretty local. She did think about moving to the west coast with her boyfriend after college, but, thank God, decided against it. She does travel now as a journalist, and I might not see her every weekend anymore, but I don't want her living on the other side of the country, either."

"Exactly. But I think Alexis is afraid that if she goes somewhere in the city, I'll stop by for lunch every day. Which… I might. But I'm trying to convince her that I won't."

She laughed. "My stepdaughter's eighteen too, and I think she's looking at Stanford for next year, among other places. Maybe she and Alexis can get in touch. Swap interview stories, that kind of thing."

"I'll bet she'd like that. I'll have to meet her before I leave."

"She lives in New Mexico with her mom. I'll talk to Luke about giving you her number, though."

"Thanks, that's nice of you. Uh, if you're not too busy, I'd take that tour now."

She smiled. "Of course. Follow me. We'll start with the kitchen. Be thinking of your favorite fish, and don't mind the hyperventilating chef."

"The _what?"_

But his confusion was cleared up when he followed Lorelai through the door to the kitchen and immediately heard the clang of a dropped pan.

"Richard Castle… you're Richard Castle!" the beaming chef immediately started blathering. "Oh my God, you're really here. Not that I didn't _think_ you were really here, Lorelai told me you were, but it's really you! Not that I didn't think it was really you, but… Lorelai, it's Richard Castle!"

Lorelai grinned. "Sookie, chill. Mr. Castle, this my business partner, Sookie St. James. She's also the best chef on the eastern seaboard." Sookie shot Lorelai a displeased look that he didn't understand, and Lorelai rolled her eyes. "And everywhere else."

Sookie beamed. "Thank you! It's so nice to meet you, Mr. Castle! I've read all your books. Nikki Heat is amazing. So strong, so fierce."

He tried not to cringe as he waited for the question about her inspiration, but it didn't come. "Well, thank you," he replied. "It's always nice to meet a fan. And you can just call me Rick."

"Rick. Nice to meet you!" The chef was practically squealing. "Will you be here for dinner?"

"Uh, yeah, absolutely."

"Great! Tuna or salmon?"

"Um… salmon?"

"Salmon it is! You're gonna love it. I serve it with this garlic butter—"

Sensing that she wasn't going to stop, he interrupted her. "You know what? Why spoil the surprise? I'll find out at dinner."

"Ooh, right! It'll be a mystery, like one of your books!"

He nodded, chuckling a little. "Exactly. I'm sure Lorelai wants to continue her tour, so…"

"Oh yeah! You have to see the whole place. It's gorgeous. And not just because I'm one of the owners… it really is. I'll see you at dinner!"

"Yeah, he'll be there," Lorelai cut in. "See ya, Sook."

"Bye, Sookie," Castle said in a mildly flirtatious manner as he let Lorelai lead him out of the kitchen. He caught one final glance of the chef blushing furiously.

"Thanks for humoring the crazy chef," Lorelai said when they were back in the lobby. "It meant a lot to her, I'm sure."

He smiled. "No problem. Seems like a nice lady."

"She is. You stay here for long and you'll see we're a town full of well-intentioned psychopaths."

"I notice you said 'we'. You count yourself in that?"

"Most days, absolutely." She grinned. "Normal's boring. Who wants that?"

"Certainly not me." An idea had started to form in his head, a way to get more information for his next potential character. "Hey, if you're not doing anything tonight, I'd love it if you and Rory could join me for dinner. I don't really know anyone around here, and I'd hate to have to eat alone. Your husband can come too, if he wants. My treat."

"Oh, I'd love to, and I'm sure Rory would too, but we kind of already have plans."

He tried not to let his disappointment show too obviously. "Of course. Anything fun?"

"Not quite. It's a dinner at my parents' house, obligatory thing. But if you're gonna be around for a few more days, we'll definitely take a rain check."

He smiled. "Sounds good. I know where to find you."

"That you do. And hey, don't worry about tonight. In Stars Hollow, you're never alone."

He nodded. "I'm beginning to get that impression."

* * *

**A/N: **I really don't have much to say for once. Sorry for the delay, I haven't been doing a whole lot of writing lately. Trying to change that. Reviews are always very much appreciated. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **So, for the official record, I didn't forget about this story. It's still happening. I just... took a break. Somewhat unintentionally. It does please me that a few of you were interested enough to ask if I was going to continue it. And, clearly, I am. Hopefully the next chapter comes a little more quickly. But it'll be starting to get into the main plot pretty soon, so I have a feeling it will. Anyway, enjoy. :)

* * *

"_There's always a story, always a chain of events that makes everything make sense."_

"It's been awhile since we've been to one of these dinners. Feels weird, doesn't it? Driving here together, like we did when I was in high school?"

Lorelai sighed. Leave it to Rory to be nostalgic about a tradition she'd been forced into taking part in so many years ago. She might've had the sweetest daughter in the world, but she personally was not looking forward to this evening. "Weird, yeah."

Rory frowned. "You don't have to say it like that. We're going, aren't we? Might as well enjoy it."

"Do you want to know the last time I _enjoyed_ an evening at my mother's house? Never. It doesn't work like that. There is no _enjoying_. The continuum of Emily dinners starts at 'bad' and goes to 'horrible'. And then there are the off-the-chart dinners, the ones that are so ridiculously bad that there isn't even a word that you can assign to it. But that's it. There's no 'good', no 'pleasant'."

"You're being dramatic."

"You're surprised by this?"

Rory rolled her eyes and changed the subject. "It's too bad Luke couldn't come."

"He's working."

"Caesar could've covered."

"He's out of town, visiting friends or something."

"That's weird, he never goes anywhere."

"So I guess he was overdue for a vacation."

"I guess so." Rory stared out the window for a moment before turning back to her mother. "So, you met him?"

"Who, Caesar?"

"Richard Castle."

"Oh, yeah, I met him. He seems nice. He booked his room for three nights instead of just one, so I guess we must've charmed him."

"We are good with the charming." Rory fiddled with her seatbelt. "Did he say anything to you about the review?"

"No, he didn't. And I don't think you need to worry about it, that was years ago."

"He did remember it," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I doubt it's the main thing on his mind."

"He did seem a little distracted," Rory remembered.

Lorelai nodded. "He asked us to have dinner with him tonight. Both of us, and Luke, and he offered to pay. I told him we had other plans, but it doesn't sound to me like he's holding a grudge."

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll try to let it go."

"And I'll get behind that decision."

"I wonder why he's staying? I thought he had a book signing to get to in Boston?"

Lorelai shrugged. "He said it fell through. I don't know, nothing seems to be going according to plan this weekend."

"Did you ever find out the reason for all the cancellations?"

"No. It's weird, I mean, I don't usually know _why _people cancel their reservations, but five different rooms on Firelight weekend? I made a few calls, even talked to Babette when I got home, and no one seems to know about anything out of the ordinary happening. Taylor hasn't decided to replace the whole town with a hay bale maze again, Kirk isn't planning on doing any kind of strange performance, Miss Patty's still making her punch… it's a regular Firelight Festival, just like every other year."

"Maybe they just had scheduling conflicts."

"One or two rooms, I could understand. But five? I'm gonna have to start charging for cancellations, I swear."

"You've been saying that since you opened the inn, and you haven't done it yet."

She nodded. "I guess you're right. And we haven't gone bankrupt yet."

"Far from it. You know what? I'll promise to stop obsessing over the review if you stop obsessing over the cancellations."

"Deal." Lorelai felt the familiar sense of foreboding as she pulled her Jeep into her least favorite driveway. "Last chance to back out."

"I told Grandma we were coming, we can't back out now."

"Sure we can. The reverse gear was invented for a reason."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Let's go."

* * *

"It's a shame that Luke couldn't come tonight," Richard remarked as the maid served some sort of fancy dish that looked like it might've been a fish at one point. "I wanted to give him that book he asked me about last time."

Lorelai was positive that if Luke had been asking her father about any book, it was purely out of politeness. But she nodded, not in the mood to start an argument. In this house, they always seemed to find her without much help. "He had to work tonight."

"I suppose everyone has their own set of priorities," Emily interjected. "For some it's family, for others it's work."

Rory cut her mother off with a stern look before she could reply. "Mom, why don't you tell Grandma and Grandpa about who's staying at the inn this weekend?"

She took a breath and allowed her daughter's wish for a peaceful dinner take precedence over her own instinct to defend her husband. "Richard Castle, the novelist? He's in town, and he's staying at the Dragonfly."

"Well, that's certainly something!" Richard said. "That he chose to stay at your inn rather than somewhere in Hartford. Shows you've built quite a reputation."

She chose not to include the fact that Castle's car had broken down and he hadn't trusted the tow truck driver to get him to Hartford, and just nodded.

"Richard Castle," Emily mused, "isn't he the one who wrote those trashy detective stories?"

"They're not trashy," Rory immediately cut in. "They were on the New York Times bestseller list."

"Yes, and so was _50 Shades of Grey."_

"How do you even—?" Lorelai started, but her mother ignored the interruption.

"In fact, I could hardly point to a book written in the last ten years that's anything _but_ filth. Didn't you write a review of his first book, Rory? What was it called, _Naked Heat?"_

Rory blushed violently, and Lorelai suspected it had little to do with the book's title. "No, _Heat Wave._"

"Well, that isn't much better."

"_Naked Heat _was the second," Rory murmured, but Lorelai spoke over her and the comment got lost.

"Have you actually read any of these books, Mother?"

"No, of course not. But I read Rory's review. Nothing but undeveloped characters and graphic sex scenes."

"That's not what I wrote," Rory insisted. "I liked the book, and Mr. Castle seems very nice."

"Well, I suppose Richard is right," Emily said, her tone falling dismissively. "It's a status symbol, having a celebrity stay at your inn. Regardless of whether his fame is deserved."

She wasn't sure whether to thank her mother for what she recognized as her own strange brand of acceptance or correct her interpretation of Castle, inevitably starting an argument, so she did neither and continued to eat whatever exactly was in front of her, hoping that the sooner she finished, the sooner she could go home.

Rory, on the other hand, was determined. "But it _is_ deserved," she insisted. As she wasn't usually the type to argue for argument's sake, Lorelai had to guess that her daughter's determination had something to do with residual guilt over the review. "Did you know that he's been working with the NYPD for four years," she continued, "gathering information to make his books as realistic as possible, and helping to solve cases in the process? He's actually doing things to fuel his writing, not just sitting behind a desk. He's out there in the world experiencing things. His books give all the characters, both the heroes and the villains, real stories and motives and lives. And there's more than just good and bad, there's everything in between. Just because his books are popular doesn't mean they can't be real, quality novels."

"I don't remember any of that from your review," Lorelai said, just to Rory.

"I did some research after I met him. He's actually had a pretty impressive career. He was still in college when he wrote his first bestseller."

"You met him, Rory?" Suddenly Emily was interested again.

"Yeah. At a gas station outside of Stars Hollow. His car broke down, so I gave him a ride, and then we had lunch."

"You had lunch with Richard Castle?" Lorelai shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that when he stayed at her inn he was nothing more than a trashy novelist, but now that Rory had met him her mother was impressed. "That's a wonderful contact to have. Did you get his number?"

She blushed slightly. "No, I didn't get his number. I just talked to him a little bit, that's all."

"You should try to get an interview for that newspaper of yours," Richard put in.

"It's not _my _newspaper, Grandpa. I just work there."

"I know that, but you're their best reporter, surely you have some influence."

"I don't know about their _best_ reporter…"

"Oh, you're just being modest. Maybe you could get them to reprint your review, with the interview beside it, like a follow-up piece. I'm sure your readers would love it."

Rory's mouth set as she transitioned from annoyance to anger, a rare emotion for her. "I don't _want_ them to reprint it, Grandpa! I wish they'd never printed it in the first place. It was judgmental and mean and some of the things I wrote weren't even true. And if I was a better journalist, I could write my opinions without being hurtful."

She got up from the table and left the room, leaving the vaguely fish-like object on her plate nearly untouched.

* * *

Lorelai gave her daughter a few minutes to cool off before going after her. She found her in the first place she looked, in Richard's study, sitting in a chair strangely close to the portrait of her that had been painted when she was much younger, creating a borderline-creepy scene.

"So much for not obsessing," she said as she approached her.

"Yeah, well… Grandma kind of messed that up."

Lorelai nodded. "She does that."

"It wasn't her fault, she didn't know the whole story… but I shouldn't have written the things I wrote. I should've at least done some research first, found out more about him—"

Lorelai cut her off. "It was just a review, not a textbook. You don't need to know everything about an author before you review a book. You've never done that with anyone else, you've just never met any of the other authors afterward. Remember when you were in college and you reviewed that ballet? It's the same kind of thing, except instead of an angry ballerina it's a writer, like you. Who really doesn't seem that angry, so I think this situation might even be better."

She sighed. "I guess."

"And it was that piece that basically got you onto the paper. I hate to say it, but my parents might actually be right. Rick could be a great contact for you. I'm sure he knows other writers, and detectives, obviously, if he's worked with the NYPD… he might even have an in at the New York Times. Not that there's anything wrong with the Providence paper, but I know you want to do more with your career, and maybe he could help."

She nodded. "It just sucks, you know? I happen to meet this amazing novelist, through sheer coincidence, and he already knows me as the reporter who gave him a bad review. What are the chances of that?"

Lorelai shrugged. "Well, you know Serendipity. She's never been kind to us in the past, why should that change now?"

"I thought you talked to her about that?"

"Apparently she forgot."

"You might have to remind her."

"Maybe. I know one thing for sure, though."

"What's that?"

"That girl in the painting?" She pointed to it, eliciting an eye-roll from the grown-up version of its subject. "She would be amazed at the person you are now. Working at a real newspaper, meeting famous authors? Doing all the things she dreamed about."

Rory's face had reddened again. "I hope you're right," she murmured.

"I know I am. Now, do you think we'd better get back out there for dessert before Emily sends out a search party?"

Rory nodded. "Hopefully it's better than the main course. What was that, fish?"

"How should I know? You're the one who actually listens when Mom tells us what the weird rich people food is supposed to be."

"You're the one who grew up here. You've probably had it before."

"And obviously I wasn't listening then, either. Trust me, the number one rule of society cuisine? It's better if you don't know what it is."

"Does that rule hold up for dessert?"

"Sometimes. But usually the dessert is good even if the dinner sucks."

Rory nodded, probably remembering this from previous Friday night dinners. "Let's test that theory."

* * *

**A/N: **So I know that this chapter was mostly Gilmore Girls, and I know that not everyone reading this knows much about that show, but I hope it was easy enough to follow. The next chapter will be Castle's point of view, so... bear with me.

Thanks for reading, and please leave me reviews! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **So, I still haven't forgotten about this story. I'm still updating it. And hopefully you're still reading it. I suppose you probably are if you're seeing this note. This is kind of an important chapter, so... let me know what you think! That nice little review box at the bottom of the page is there for a reason. :)

* * *

"_Many a true love has had its start right on the spot where I stand."_

"You going to the bonfire tonight, Sugar?"

His peaceful dinner by himself had turned into a social event when Babette, a tiny but very friendly woman, and her husband Morey, who seemed about twice her height and rarely spoke, joined him. But he'd gotten some more insight about the town from Babette, so it hadn't been a complete loss. "I thought it was tomorrow?"

"It goes on all weekend, but they light the fire tonight. It's a whole ceremony. We're going if you want to come with."

He struggled to find a polite way to decline. As nice as these people were, he didn't particularly want to spend the whole evening with them. "I think I'll hang back here and do a little writing," he said, although he had no plans of doing that, "but maybe I'll see you there later."

Babette nodded. "Oh, you do that, Sugar. Gotta keep those books coming."

Apparently that was enough to dismiss the couple, for which he was grateful. He did want to go to the bonfire and check out the spectacle, more research for his book, but he couldn't properly observe in a group. He needed to be alone, to have some sort of anonymity.

But anonymity didn't seem to be a realistic goal in Stars Hollow. As soon as he left the inn, it seemed, every person he passed wanted to talk to him. They all seemed to know who he was. Some wanted autographs, others cameos in upcoming books, and three different women (one of whom had to be in her seventies, at least) wanted to know if he was dating "the real Nikki Heat." And this was all before he got to the town square.

There, at least, everyone seemed to have a distraction. He was able to weave around the edges of the crowd, catching snippets of conversations and getting a feel for the town as a whole, without it being focused through the lens of any one person. One unusual thing he noticed was that, with the town gathered like this, there didn't really seem to be subgroups. A conversation between two people could be entered by a third who didn't seem to be connected in any way, and no one thought twice about it. Everyone seemed perfectly free and comfortable conversing with everyone else. He could imagine how quickly gossip would spread in a place like this. He made a mental note of it, thinking that it could become a useful plot tool.

He managed to poke through the crowd a bit without being stopped. As he got into the heart of the square, he noticed that quite a few people seemed to be holding cups. He hardly had the chance to wonder what that was about before a woman he'd already met – Patty, he remembered – called to him from behind a table.

"Well well, the famous Rick Castle found his way to our little festival." He cringed, wishing she'd keep the volume down. He was still trying to blend in, after all. "I heard you were staying," she continued, "but I didn't know you'd be here. Babette told me you had some writing to do first."

Apparently his idea about news spreading fast here had been accurate. "I managed to pull myself away." He looked at the table, which was covered with cups full of some slightly red, mostly unidentifiable liquid. "What do you have there?"

"It's my famous Founder's Day punch. Fifty cents a cup, and worth every penny."

He located his wallet and fished out a dollar. "Keep the change," he said. "Maybe I'll come back for another later."

She laughed, which he didn't completely understand, but thanked him and handed him a cup. He took his first sip a bit too quickly and had to fight to keep from spitting it out again. He swallowed with some effort. "What _is_ that?"

"Secret recipe," Patty said with a wink.

He shook his head and walked away from the table with a wave, pretty sure that he wouldn't be going back for another cup. He'd had strong punch before, hell, he was famous for his own, but… wow. Between the coffee and the punch, this was not a town that did things halfway. That in mind, he was curious to see what other surprises this evening would offer.

He spotted Babette in the crowd (actually he spotted Morey and heard Babette) and carefully skirted around them without being spotted. But Babette's voice carried, and a snippet of dialogue caught his interest.

"One of the bus boys heard Lorelai telling Sookie. Five rooms cancelled, and on Firelight Weekend! I don't know what the reason could be, Morey and I were just there for dinner and it was just as gorgeous as ever. Wonderful food. These people don't know what they're missin'!"

He frowned as he continued walking. Lorelai hadn't seemed to have any problem finding a room for him last minute. He wondered if this was why. Judging from the quality of everything from the inn's décor to the food they'd been serving, it didn't seem like they were struggling financially, and with this being such an important weekend for the town, it seemed strange that the small inn wouldn't be totally booked. It made much more sense that it had been at one point, and then something had changed. But what? Why would five people cancel their reservations at the last minute? His writer's instincts told him that it couldn't be insignificant. There had to be a reason – had to be a story. He just had to find it.

After another few minutes of meandering, he recognized another face in the crowd, and this time not one he wanted to avoid. She was with someone, a man, and after another second's contemplation he recognized him as the man from the diner, her husband. That slowed him down for a fraction of a second, but by that time she'd spotted him and was waving him over.

"Hey," she greeted him. "Richard Castle, this is my husband Luke Danes."

"Rick," he corrected her, addressing both of them, as he extended his hand which Luke shook politely, if not exactly warmly.

"Nice to meet you," he said, without a smile, but not in an unfriendly way.

"I had dinner at the inn," he told her. "It was every bit as delicious as advertised."

She smiled. "Oh yeah, Sookie's great. I'll tell her you gave her a positive review, she'll be thrilled."

"Do that." He decided to pry a little, to see if she could give him any insight into the mystery of the cancelled rooms. "I was surprised at how few people were there, though. I mean, it's quite a busy weekend here, I'd expect a lot of tourists."

She blushed noticeably. "Yeah, just one of those weird things."

That was not helpful. "This is a yearly thing, right? Do you usually get a lot of visitors?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess." She changed the subject. "I see you found Patty's punch. Surprised you can still see straight."

He glanced at the liquid in his cup, taking her hint and stopping his prodding. "Yeah, for now. What does she put in this stuff?"

"She won't tell, but right now the favorite guess is paint thinner and fermented cherry juice."

He sniffed the punch again and nodded. "Seems about right."

The huge white gazebo that seemed to serve as the town's centerpiece was also the focus of the festivities tonight. Inside was a podium where a gray-haired man, assisted by a younger guy who looked somewhat familiar, fussed with a microphone. After a few minutes of this, the younger man gave a thumbs up and the older one tapped his microphone, the sound of which reverberated through the square.

"Good evening, fellow townsfolk," he began. Castle almost laughed, and he noticed Luke scoff. Who did this guy think he was? And an even better question, who was he? "As mayor and town selectman of Stars Hollow," he continued, clearing up that matter, although it still left Castle wondering what the hell a town selectman was, "this is one of my very favorite times of year. Tonight kicks off the celebration of the night that our beloved town was founded. Now, as we all know, the lovers who founded our fine town built a bonfire their first nights here. And while the reason for that fire has been heavily debated," he paused, glaring in the direction of the punch table, "we can all agree that there was a fire. And now is the time for the most important moment of the celebration: the ceremonial lighting of the bonfire." He turned to the younger man who Castle had recognized from earlier. "Kirk?"

As soon as he heard the name, Castle was able to place him. This was the tow truck driver who had so ungracefully taken his beloved Ferrari to the shop, somehow damaging it in the process. His blank expression when the mayor looked at him did nothing to re-instill Castle's confidence.

"Don't tell me—" the older man began, his face falling.

"Every damn year, Taylor!" Luke yelled.

Lorelai giggled. "Some things never let you down."

The mayor – Taylor, apparently – sighed. "Thank you, Luke, for your always helpful comments." His voice dripped sarcasm. "Did anyone bring matches?"

Castle raised his eyebrows. "They're lighting a bonfire and they don't have matches? What are they gonna do, rub two sticks together?"

"They tried that once," Lorelai said. "About ten years ago. Eventually someone got frustrated and went to the store for a lighter."

"Quite a town," Castle mused.

Luke took a small lighter out of his pocket and tossed it toward the gazebo so that it bounced lightly off of Taylor's arm.

"Hey—" he started, but relaxed visibly upon seeing the object. "Thank you," he sighed, "whoever did that."

"Nice throw," Castle said.

Luke shrugged. "I was aiming for his head. Can't have everything."

Taylor handed the lighter to Kirk, who moved to the bonfire, which was actually closer to where they were standing than the gazebo, but struggled with it for a good five minutes before getting it lit. This prompted a very frustrated Luke to take a few steps forward, take the lighter away from Kirk and light the fire himself.

"This is better anyway," Lorelai whispered. "Kirk and fire are not a good combination."

The lighting was actually quite a sight. It started with a single strip of newspaper, reading "Stars Hollow," which then caught more paper, a chain that continued until the wood started to catch. Eventually the whole town was gathered around the blaze, which seemed to give everyone a nice, soft glow.

But Taylor was still in the gazebo, and he still had his microphone. "Now is the time for the story of our town's founding," he announced. "It is a story of bravery, of overcoming the odds, and, above all, of true love. With that, I will turn the microphone over to our very own Patricia LaCosta, better known as Miss Patty, to recount this beloved story."

"You'll love this," Lorelai whispered.

Patty must have abandoned her punch stand, because she now stood in the gazebo where even after he'd introduced her it looked like she had to somewhat forcibly extract the microphone from Taylor's hands. She started the story automatically, with the air of someone who had told it many times before.

"This," she began, "is a story of true love. A beautiful girl from one county, a handsome boy from another. They meet, and they fall in love."

Simple beginning, he thought. It could've used some detail. What were their names? How did they meet?

"Separated by distance and by parents who did not approve of the union," Patty continued, "the young couple dreamed of a day that they could be together. They wrote each other beautiful letters, letters of longing and passion, letters full of promises and plans for the future."

What was this, some cheap small-town version of Romeo and Juliet?

"Soon, the separation proved too much for either of them to bear, so one night, cold and black, with no light to guide them, they both snuck out of their homes and ran away as fast as they could. It was so dark out that they were both soon lost, and it seemed as if they would never find each other. Finally, the girl dropped to her knees, tears streaming down her lovely face. 'Oh my love, where are you? How will I find you?'"

Yes. Definitely Romeo and Juliet. He wondered if Miss Patty had made up this story. She certainly seemed to be respected enough in the community to have pulled it off, and there was something about the way that she spoke. Although the story could've been written better, it was delivered well. She was a good storyteller. Maybe not, though. Maybe the story had been passed down for years, and she was simply its orator.

"Suddenly, a band of stars appeared in the sky. These stars shone so brightly, they lit up the entire countryside. The girl jumped to her feet and followed the path of the stars until finally she found herself standing right where the town gazebo is today, and there waiting for her was her one true love, who had also been led here by the blanket of friendly stars."

He smiled. For a town called Stars Hollow, he supposed it was a pretty good origin story. It could've done with a little spicing up, but the town clearly loved it. As he looked around at the townspeople, they all seemed to be hanging onto Patty's every word.

Except one person. Through the building flames, he saw her. She looked like she was trying to blend in, just as he was, but she didn't quite succeed. She didn't belong here. She wasn't surrounded by townspeople, she was alone. Something about her stance was wrong. Too straight, too focused. Almost bored. She was too far away for him to see her clearly, but there was something so familiar about her silhouette.

Forgetting Lorelai and Luke completely, he edged around the bonfire, staying in the crowd as the mayor began speaking again. But he heard none of what was said, focused as he was on getting a better look at the woman. As he got closer, she turned the other direction and he still couldn't see her face. Taylor's voice cut over the crowd, distracting him.

"…one thing is clear," he said, concluding his speech. "Destiny intervened. And without the love of these two people, without their determination to find each other again, the town that we all know and love would not be here today."

A round of applause erupted, and finally the woman turned in his direction, even meeting his eyes. As soon as they locked, his heart sped up. He knew her immediately. Beckett.


End file.
